The Sicilian's Bought Bride

His eyes never left her face, taking in every flicker of reaction as his question reached her. ‘What would Janey have wanted for Lily?’

‘She’d have wanted me to have her…’ Her voice trailed off, her startled eyes blinking rapidly, and Rico leapt in, sensing weakness and exploiting it in an instant.

‘Because she loved you?’ His voice was so silken you might almost have missed the derisive sneer, but Catherine was like a radar where Rico was concerned, and she flinched at his insensitivity. ‘Janey would have wanted you to have Lily because she adored her big sister Catherine?’

‘She did love me; I was her sister.’ Her lips were impossibly dry and she ran her tongue over them, her head spinning as he relentlessly continued.

‘You don’t have to love your sister, Catherine,’ Rico pointed out mercilessly. ‘You don’t even have to love your husband—and Janey didn’t love Marco, did she? Did she?’ He roared the words the second time—the roar of a lion defending its territory, of a beautiful animal to be admired from a distance, but that could turn in a second. ‘In fact Marco was just a walking, talking chequebook to his young bride…’

‘Rico, please…’ Catherine started. She wanted him to stop, wanted to end this horrible interrogation, didn’t want to sully the few precious memories she had with the awful truth—didn’t want to admit even to herself how little Janey had thought of her.

‘Janey wanted the fast cars, the nice home, the maids, the lifestyle—and I don’t doubt she’d have wanted the same for her daughter.’

‘Janey would have wanted me,’ Catherine insisted, but the lack of conviction in her voice truly terrified her. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Rico.’

‘Have I?’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Which part?’

‘All of it,’ Catherine whispered, pleating the tie of her robe with trembling fingers. And she knew there and then that she could never admit to the truth. Rico was right, damn him, and it hurt to admit it. Janey hadn’t loved her; Janey had hated her. More damaging than that, Janey had blatantly admitted she had married Marco for his money. If it ever got out, if Catherine ever admitted the truth, what chance would she have against the family courts? What chance would she have against the might of Rico Mancini? It would all be over bar the shouting.

Lily would be gone from her life as surely as she was standing here now.

A lion Rico might be, but the lioness in Catherine emerged then—proud and wary, sleek and refined, and willing to do whatever it took to protect those she loved. To her dying breath she would deny it. She would take Janey’s words to the grave. Would lie through her teeth if that was what it took.

Lily needed her.

‘Janey loved Marco.’

‘She told you that?’

Dragging in air through her clenched teeth, she wrenched her eyes from the floor and forced herself to do the hardest thing she had done in her life—look Rico in the eye and lie.

‘Yes, Rico. She told me that she loved him. Janey loved Marco and his money had nothing to do with it. I know in my heart that—’

‘Save it.’ A well-manicured hand flicked in the air. His eyes were more shuttered than ever, his voice almost weary, and for once there was economy in his actions, the usual extravagant Latin temperament curiously subdued as he halted her speech. ‘It is time for bed.’